Humanities weakness.

You make a split-second decision—finding another entrance is your only option. There’s no time to search bodies for a keycard with that thing charging at you.

You sprint away from the locked gate, boots crunching against the snow, lungs burning as the freezing air whips past your face. The creature’s guttural, gurgling growl reverberates behind you, followed by the revving roar of its chainsaw.

It’s chasing you.

Your heart pounds as you weave between frozen bodies and scattered debris, the beast’s heavy footsteps thundering behind you. The ground trembles as it swings its chainsaw wildly, slicing through anything in its path—a severed limb flies past you, flung from one of the corpses.

Then, up ahead, you see it—a vent. A large, rusted air duct embedded into the side of the facility wall, barely a few feet off the ground. It’s too tightly sealed for you to open in time… but maybe—

The chainsaw.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. The monster is close—too close. You have seconds.

You skid to a stop directly in front of the vent, turning just as the creature lifts its chainsaw overhead. You duck and roll at the last second.

The beast swings down with full force—

Screeeeeech!

The chainsaw buries itself deep into the metal vent, sending a violent screech of tearing steel into the air. Sparks explode as the blade grinds against the metal, stuck firm. The creature roars angrily, yanking at the weapon, trying to free it.

This is your chance.

You scramble toward the vent, fingers wrapping around the torn opening. But just as you pull—

The monster yanks its weapon free—

And swings.

The rusted chainsaw slices through the air—and pain explodes through your hand.

You scream.

Two of your fingers—gone. Blood spurts from the fresh stumps, staining the snow in deep red. The pain is blinding, suffocating—but you don’t have time to process it.

Gritting your teeth, you shove your good hand into the gap and pry the vent open, metal cutting into your palm. The creature lunges, bringing its weapon down for another swing—

But the chainsaw slams into the wall, wedging itself deep into the concrete.

It’s stuck again.

With a final, desperate push, you hurl yourself into the vent, dragging your bleeding hand behind you. You hear the beast screeching in fury, yanking at its weapon, but it’s too late—

You’re inside.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you drag yourself deeper into the cramped, freezing vent. Blood drips steadily from your mangled hand, leaving a dark, glistening trail along the metal surface. The pain is unbearable, but you force yourself to keep moving—you don’t have a choice.

Behind you, the beast outside roars in frustration, its chainsaw still grinding against the concrete. You hear the shriek of tearing metal as it rips the vent further open, but the passage is too narrow for something its size to follow.

For now, you’re safe.

Or so you think.

The vent extends into darkness, the air inside thick and stale. Every movement sends metallic echoes ringing through the passage, making it impossible to tell if you’re alone. Something could be waiting ahead. Watching. Listening.

You crawl faster, ignoring the burning pain in your severed fingers. You just need to find an exit—any exit.

Then, up ahead, you see it.

A grate leading into a dimly lit room. You inch closer, peering through the narrow slits. The moment your eyes adjust to the sight below, your stomach twists into a knot of pure horror.

A corpse. Torn open, organs spilling onto the floor in a slick, dark puddle.

And something else.

A massive, towering figure looms over the body, its yellow, sickly skin stretched tightly over an impossibly large frame. The creature is at least eight feet tall, its elongated arms twitching violently as it hovers over the corpse. Its head is completely smooth—devoid of eyes, nose, or hair—just a featureless, fleshy expanse where a face should be.

And it’s shaking.

Violently.

Convulsing over the corpse, its movements jerky and unnatural, as if struggling against its own body. Wet, squelching noises fill the room as it tears into the flesh, its long, clawed fingers digging deep into the body’s ribcage before pulling out something wet and glistening.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You don’t know if it’s seen you. You don’t know if it even can see you.

But then—

It stops shaking.

And slowly… ever so slowly…

Its head tilts upward.

Do you stay completely still, hoping it doesn’t notice you, or do you attempt to walk past it?